‘I’m afraid so. Is that a problem?’
‘’Course not. Sister Emily runs on coffee. But it has to be Fairtrade.’
Janna goes behind her little breakfast bar to make his coffee whilst he continues to stand, looking out at the little courtyard. He seems at ease, hands in his jeans pockets, feet apart. Janna realizes that it was set up like this; that Dossie should appear first, followed quite quickly by Adam so that there’s no awkward introductions, standing about being polite, just this sudden entrance. It all seems easy and natural.
‘Dossie was just telling me about the party,’ she says. ‘Says it was good.’
‘Well, it was.’ He turns to look at her, taking a few steps towards her. ‘Doss and I are thinking of a return match at The Court. Would you like to come to it, if we do?’
And suddenly she knows that she’d like it. That she’d feel comfortable with it.
‘We thought we’d try to get Clem and Tilly and Jakey over for it, as well,’ Dossie is saying. ‘They’re always so busy but we’re determined to get everyone all together.’
This convinces Janna that she’ll enjoy this party at The Court. With Clem and Jakey and Tilly there she won’t feel outnumbered.
‘Perhaps they’ll give me a lift?’ she suggests casually, as she pushes Adam’s mug of coffee across the breakfast bar towards him.
Behind his back, Dossie turns to look at her with a surprised smile and raises her teacup in salute.
‘Or,’ offers Adam, ‘if that’s a problem, I could come and fetch you?’
Janna begins to laugh. ‘I’m not going to get out of this one, am I?’
‘And why would you want to?’ asks Adam.
‘Exactly,’ says Dossie with satisfaction. ‘That’s settled then.’
‘But won’t you have to get back to London?’ Janna asks Adam, coming to sit at the table.
‘It might have to be on my next visit,’ he answers, ‘but I can get down at the weekends. It’s no sweat.’
And, just briefly, Dossie’s eyes meet hers with a glint of delight and relief: a battle has been won.
‘Well, that went off really well,’ says Dossie as she and Adam drive home together. ‘It’s silly, really, because she’s such fun. But she gets these odd ideas in her head and then it’s difficult to shake her. She thinks Ned and Hugo and Jamie will be posh and out of her league and she gets nervous. Did you like her?’
It’s important to her that Adam should like her friends; to feel really at home here. It’s been such a good few days.
‘Very much,’ answers Adam. ‘She’s very unusual. That wonderful Cornish lilt to her voice and those Bohemian clothes. Not someone you’d immediately associate with nuns and a retreat house.’
‘You haven’t met the nuns,’ retorts Dossie. ‘You need a bit of an oddball to take care of people like Sister Emily and Mother Magda. They’re very lucky to have her and they know it. Janna feels safe there after years of being on the road as a child, then foster homes. I think she knows when she’s well off. It works both ways. And I love it that she and Clem are such good mates.’
‘She’s lucky,’ says Adam, ‘to find a place where she really belongs and where she can be what she’s supposed to be.’
There’s a little silence whilst Dossie thinks about what he’s said and hears the slight note of wistfulness in his voice. Is it possible that, after all these years, Adam is still searching?
‘And so,’ she says, after a moment, ‘you and Jamie are going to Truro tomorrow?’
Adam chuckles. ‘He offered me a ride in the MGB and I couldn’t resist. When I told him I was meeting an old mate for lunch who was working in Jackson Stop Start he said he’d like to have a look at some local properties, so he suggested we went together.’
Another silence. Dossie thinks about Jamie looking at local properties and her spirits rise.
‘I suppose,’ she says, with a show of indifference, ‘now that he’s retired it would be nice for him to be near Ned and Hugo. He doesn’t seem to have any other family.’
She glances sideways and sees that Adam is grinning.
‘What?’ she asks sharply. ‘What’s funny?’
‘Nothing,’ he says innocently. ‘Who’s laughing?’
She stares out of the window. The rain has almost stopped and silvery grey curtains of mist shake and drift in the wind. Adam drives carefully.
‘It’s a pity you can’t come too,’ he adds. ‘He’ll be on his own for lunch. But it would be a bit of a squash for three adults. Do you remember how I used to squeeze in behind you on the little seat in Mike’s?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she says, smiling with pleasure at the memory. ‘Oh God, what fun we had in that car,’ and just as suddenly she is seized with a sense of loss.
‘Sorry,’ says Adam, glancing quickly at her. ‘Sorry, Doss. Didn’t mean to make you sad.’
‘You didn’t,’ she says. ‘Well, you did, but in a good way. I wouldn’t want to forget a minute of it. It was the best time of my life.’
Something makes her want to add, ‘Until now,’ but it seems silly, so she doesn’t, and Adam drives in through the gateway, and they are home.
Hugo packs Dossie’s wine glasses back into their box and stands looking at it. A little plan is forming in his mind. He knows about the jaunt to Truro in the morning and he’s wondering if Dossie might be home alone after Jamie and Adam have left. He’s trying to decide whether to text her now and offer to bring the wine glasses or to wait until Jamie and Adam have set off. It would be rather nice to have Dossie to himself for an hour or two. She might even invite him to lunch. Uncle Ned’s got one of his bridge days so it’s a perfect opportunity.
‘Why Truro?’ he asked Jamie.
‘Adam’s going,’ he answered. ‘There’s an estate agency that he calls Jackson Stop Start and he knows someone who’s working there.’
Hugo snorted with amusement. ‘That’s a silly nickname for Jackson-Stops & Staff. It’s in Lemon Street.’
‘Well, Adam used to work with this guy in London and then he transferred down here. Adam thought he’d look him up and I offered him a lift. He’s like a kid about the MGB.’
‘You’re like a kid about it,’ retorted Hugo. ‘Two big kids together.’
But Jamie refused to rise and simply grinned back at him.
‘Should be fun,’ he said.
‘I wonder,’ Hugo said, irrelevantly, ‘what Jack would have made of Dossie?’
There was a brief, surprised silence.
‘Neither of us would have stood a chance,’ Jamie said. ‘He’d have knocked us both out of the contest like he did with Rose. What a bloody tragedy it was. He was so young. Twenty-three. Much too young to die.’
‘When I think of him – try to imagine what he’d be like now – I always think he would look like you. You were always so alike.’
Jamie smiled a little bitterly. ‘But perhaps he’d have made a better fist of things than I have.’
Now, Hugo puts the box on a shelf in the boot room. He wonders what happened to Lucy and the little boy and where they are now. Are they still in their holiday cottage in Rock or have they returned to Geneva? He knows that he should mention the meeting to Jamie but the moment never seems right and he can’t think of the words: ‘You’ll never guess who I saw …?’ or ‘Look, this might come as a bit of a shock …’ And he can’t get the memory of that little boy out of mind: those dark eyes and black hair. A few days ago, he turned out a few photographs, looking for ones of Jamie as a child, just to confirm his suspicions. And there it was. A small black-and-white snapshot with Jamie staring out at him: the likeness was undeniable. He wonders why she never told him – or did that actor, Nigel Kent, really believe that Lucy was his child? If Emilia was having an affair with him it was perfectly possible, and Lucy is so like her mother that he might not have suspected. Emilia wouldn’t have wanted to rock any boats and Jamie certainly wouldn’t have made it easy for her. He always longed for children – though no
t enough to remarry. The betrayal hit him hard and he kept his relationships casual.
Hugo crosses his arms across his ribcage, fists clenched. How will Jamie react if he comes up against his daughter and his grandson with no warning? Hugo sees all the pitfalls opening before him and knows that he’s been a fool. Yet it’s been so good to see Jamie as he’s been for this last couple of weeks. This wretched vertigo, the migraines, the fear that it might strike at any time, is disabling and Hugo knows that his cousin feels emasculated, unviable. Every car journey Jamie takes is hedged about now with the threat of having to stop, to wait until the dizziness passes, to be constantly aware. For someone whose whole life has been lived in perfect control it must be like a death sentence. And now, just when for the first time in nearly two years Jamie is happy, enjoying life, having fun, it is necessary to take him to one side and tell him that he almost certainly has a daughter in her late twenties and a small grandson of whom he knows nothing at all.
Hugo groans aloud. Yet he knows he must do it. Not tonight, because Uncle Ned has invited some friends to supper, but when Jamie comes back from Truro tomorrow he will talk to him. He’ll ask him to come out with the dogs and he’ll tell him as they walk across the cliffs. The prospect of it makes him quail. He’s been a dilatory fool. Jamie could bump into Lucy in Wadebridge, in Padstow. It was just wishful thinking that she’ll be back in Geneva, and, anyway, it looks as though Jamie is going to be a regular visitor here from now on so the moment must be seized. And it’s possible that Emilia, too, might turn up to visit her family, though Rock isn’t at all her natural habitat. Even so, Hugo’s spirits sink even lower. He must speak to Jamie tomorrow before something disastrous happens.
The front door opens and he hears Rose’s familiar call. Surprisingly, he is washed with relief at the prospect of her company and he steps back into the kitchen just as she enters it from the hall.
‘Morning, Rose,’ he says.
‘What’s up?’ she asks, staring at him. ‘You look in a right old state.’
Hugo smiles involuntarily. Foolish to think he might be able to hide anything from Rose. She has become very dear to him over the years but he is always cautious lest she feels he might be taking advantage of that afternoon, long ago, when they shared that very precious and unexpected moment of intimacy. He longs to tell her his fears and anxieties but that would be very unfair to Jamie.
The dogs are demanding her attention and he is able to pull himself together, to smile, and say: ‘I’m fine.’
‘Good,’ she says cheerfully. ‘In that case you can make the coffee while I see what a mess you’ve all made since I was here last.’
Hugo begins to laugh. ‘You ought to be available on the National Health, Rose,’ he says. ‘A daily dose of Rose to keep the doctor away.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ she answers.
He longs to put his arms around her, simply to take comfort from a hug, a kind of sharing, but he hasn’t the courage. She watches him quizzically for a moment and then turns away.
‘Kettle,’ she says, resigned. ‘Mugs. Coffee. Milk. Want anything done I s’pose I’ll have to do it myself.’
‘No,’ he says, laughing. ‘No. Even I can manage that much.’
And as he begins to make the coffee he feels more confident again: more equal to the prospect of talking to Jamie.
Rose sits across the table, watching Hugo. She’s aware of his inner turmoil but she won’t push or press. In her experience people unburden themselves when the time is right and it doesn’t do to probe, but she guesses that it is to do with Jamie.
‘Ned and Jamie out?’ she asks casually.
‘They’ve gone to visit an old oppo of Uncle Ned’s,’ he answers. ‘How do you think he’s looking?’
She knows that he means Jamie and takes her time to answer. Hugo’s not looking for meaningless reassurance but for her genuine opinion.
‘He looks stretched,’ she answers after a bit. ‘Oh, he’s still a looker and all that, but it’s taking it out of him, isn’t it? Must be hell for him.’
Hugo nods. She can see that he seems relieved that she’s on his wavelength but she’s aware that he’s struggling with something else: something he’d like to tell her but can’t for reasons of loyalty, or because it’s someone else’s secret.
Rose drinks her coffee thoughtfully. She can’t encourage him to break a confidence but she would like to give him some kind of consolation, some reassurance that he can rely on her if he needs to. She casts around, trying to think of a way back to that long-ago sharing; something that might bring them closer again. It needs a trigger – maybe some light-hearted remark about ironing.
She gives a spontaneous little chuckle at the thought of it but, even as he looks at her, eyebrows raised, ready to be amused, the telephone begins to ring.
‘Damn,’ says Hugo. ‘Sorry, Rose.’
He gets up to answer it and the moment passes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ON THE WAY to Truro, Jamie resists Adam’s attempts to make him talk about his flying career.
‘Pilots are the most boring people in the world,’ Jamie says. ‘Anyone will tell you that. Tell me about Mike.’
Jamie is intrigued by Mike. What was it about this man? Why does Dossie remember him with such warmth and love? It’s interesting, too, that Mike had such an effect on Adam.
‘Oh, well, Mike,’ Adam says, as if he is remembering a famous explorer. ‘He was just everything I wanted to be. I was about sixteen when they got married and he was so confident, so good at anything he turned his hand to. Everything I wasn’t. I aspired to be him. I had no idea what I wanted to be but I longed to work in London. He knew someone at one of the top estate agencies and got me an interview.’
As Adam talks about Mike, Jamie is touched by the fact that the dead man is clearly still so alive to him. Gradually, he guides the conversation so that he discovers what happened to Dossie after Mike died; how she and her small son managed. It is interesting to learn about her like this, to discover more about her.
‘It seems a big place for her to be all on her own,’ he suggests lightly, after Adam has talked of the death of their parents. ‘But it’s obviously very much your family home.’
He is aware that Adam is struggling with a huge sense of grievance – Hugo has already told him about the situation with The Court – and he waits to see if the younger man wants to talk about it. How hard it must be to be disinherited, cut out of your parents’ will in favour of a sibling.
‘I was bloody angry about it, actually,’ Adam says suddenly. ‘To be honest, it seemed incredibly unfair simply because I suggested that they should downsize a few years back. I was in a rather difficult relationship at the time, my parents didn’t like her or her children, and I think they simply didn’t want to hand over half of their estate to her. Well, I can sort of see that, but when the relationship broke up I thought they might have reconsidered.’
‘That’s tough,’ agrees Jamie sympathetically.
‘Yes. Well, I think my mother didn’t like to go against my father’s wishes, though I know that Dossie tried to persuade her to change her will after he died. He left half the property to Dossie to soften the blow of inheritance tax later when Mo died. But it’s not about the money. I’ve done well. It’s about being disinherited.’
‘Must be tricky for Dossie, too,’ suggests Jamie.
‘I think it is. And I don’t want her to feel pressured about it. I was so angry to begin with that I wondered how I would ever be able to have any kind of relationship with her. She was always the golden girl, if you see what I mean. Coping with Mike dying, bringing up Clem, starting her business and making it a success. Then, when they wanted to restart their own bed-and-breakfast business, which I thought was crazy at their ages, she agreed to help them and, naturally, they made a huge success of it.’
Jamie can hear the bitterness, the envy, in his voice.
‘I can see,’ he says rather drily,
‘how extraordinarily irritating that must have been for you.’
Adam begins to laugh. ‘Well, it was,’ he admits. ‘And at the time I was behaving like a complete arsehole with this woman and getting it all wrong. It was just dire.’
Jamie laughs with him, admiring his honesty, liking him for it.
‘But now,’ he says, ‘you seem to get on very well.’
‘Well, that’s the weird thing,’ says Adam. ‘It was as if, once my parents had died, all the resentment died with them and I could see Dossie clearly. I’m not proud of this but I have to admit that it’s a relief. I don’t have to pretend any more, to feel guilty about never quite making the grade.’
‘I can understand that, too,’ Jamie says. ‘It’s like friendships. I think family relationships should be viewed on their own merits. People earn respect and love. Just because they’re family doesn’t mean you automatically love them. Well, at least if Dossie decides to sell you’re the right man to advise her.’
Adam smiles. ‘I asked her the question. It’ll cost a lot to keep The Court in good condition. She said she’d rather live in decaying grandeur than in a modern bungalow.’
‘Is there no middle course?’
‘Well, there might be, but she needs to take time to think about it. I think she’s more concerned about which dog she might have than which house she might like.’
‘I approve of a woman who gets her priorities right,’ says Jamie. ‘Now remind me where I need to park and then you can show me where we’ll meet up after you’ve had lunch.’
They park near the cathedral, buy a ticket, and then wander away into the town. Adam shows him a bistro called The Place, in a narrow lane near the cathedral, and they agree a time.
‘We’re lunching at Bustopher Jones,’ Adam tells him, ‘and I wish I could suggest you join us but I know we’ll just be talking about old times and you’d be bored stiff. It won’t be that long. He has to be back by two fifteen but I’ll text you if there’s a problem.’
‘I shall be fine,’ Jamie tells him. ‘I haven’t been to Truro for years. I shall enjoy myself. See you later.’
Homecomings Page 17
